Holiday with a Vampire 4 (17 page)

“I have no intention of saying them,” she whispered.

Having crossed that line, the next one was easy. Savannah made the first move. She gave her full permission for what would happen next by bringing her lips up to his, by parting them and sighing into his mouth.

Ignoring the faint, persistent ting of the house’s alarm bell going off in the distance, she waited impatiently for Dylan to shed his reserve and for tenderness to become a thing of the past.

Chapter 4

D
ylan accepted Savannah’s mouth, closing his mind to the fact that acting on his desires was not only wrong but forbidden.

Savannah was alive, human and fragile. He had to take care to hold himself back, especially when it had been decades since he had allowed himself any degree of physical pleasure, and when his needs were overflowing and plentiful.

He just couldn’t make those warnings stick.

His mouth covered Savannah’s hungrily, greedily, forcefully, fearing she’d retract her invitation if given the chance. He swept her mouth with his tongue, forgetting about his fangs, and demanded that she react in kind. The fiery fierceness of his kiss left her breathless and limp in his arms.

Yet she rallied as his demands escalated. The rise of her sexual energy that he’d earlier witnessed as a corona of radiant fire stunned him with its intensity. Her arms encircled his neck. She held him close. Her tongue met his in a wicked dance of give-and-take.

The coolness he harbored dissipated, and he grew steadily warmer as Savannah’s flames transferred to him via her lips and her sweet, sweet heat. Releasing her would have been out of the question. Turning back didn’t enter his mind.

He didn’t want to set her on the bed. In his arms was where she belonged. In this bedroom with her was where he belonged. For now, he could be what both of them wanted him to be.

To hell with the rest.

His hunger began to rage. His fangs narrowly avoided splitting her lip, but she didn’t seem to have felt their presence. In her mouth he found evidence of her own hunger, and the background beat of her thundering pulse. He took all of this in, absorbing every bit, exploring every corner of her glorious mouth until he could stand no more waiting.

She curled up when he laid her on the bed, as if missing him for those few seconds. Leaning over her, with his hands on the pillow, he growled once, deep in his throat, before bringing her back to her feet.

The sweater came off, over her head. Savannah shook her hair back into place; it swung across her naked shoulders in silky strands of pure, priceless gold.

Standing before him, inches away, she lowered her arms. Her eyes were wide and her pupils dilated. Possibly she was in shock for allowing things to get this far, just as he was.

A filmy bit of white lace covered her breasts, tied to her shoulders with thin satin ribbons. The lace tore with the briefest tug of his hands. The ribbons easily gave way, revealing small, firm, rounded breasts, their tips as pink as Savannah’s mouth and raised into delicate, swollen buds that felt hard against his palms. Those buds would be succulent, he knew, but that kind of sweetness would throw him over the edge. In his chest and his groin a new fury to possess her had become insistent.

Savannah’s bare torso was slender and taut. Her waist was tiny. He could have counted each ridge of her ribs. Every new discovery only prolonged getting to the core of her heat, a place he desperately wanted to find and lose himself in.

Savannah uttered a sound of need that by itself could have brought him to a peak. She wasn’t ambitious or greedy. That was the thought that filtered in as his body hardened. She was merely inquisitive, alone and hungering for closeness. She sought retribution for her family’s death by chasing down celestial events similar to the one that had killed them. She was an exemplary human being.

Maybe some of that goodness would rub off.

He reveled in this closeness to her and all that she stood for. He had no idea how he had gotten this far without taking her already, without driving his cock into her creamy inferno and drinking the cries of pleasure from her lips. Time refused to stand still while he briefly contemplated these things.

Savannah pressed her half-naked body to his, driving her breasts against him. Dylan tore his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his beautiful Savannah. Blissful in the sensations of their naked chests meeting, he let out a groan of delightful despair.

This was not enough. Not by far.

He took her mouth with the fierceness of a madman, forcing her head back with his hands in her hair. Her passion, tantalizing, delicious, flowed through him like the rising waters of a raging stream. The electricity in this kiss buzzed and stung his world-weary senses.

Then she was on the bed, and he was removing her shoes and her pants.

She said nothing, did nothing to stop him. Her lips were parted, reddened and waiting for more.

When his own shoes and pants joined hers on the floor, Dylan moved up beside her. Perched on his hands, he allowed her ragged, fevered breath to warm his face.

She reached for him, gripping first his shoulders and then allowing her hands to glide to his neck. She touched his scar with her palms, and the old wound blazed with a startling, searing pain that radiated in every direction.

Shocked by this, swearing silently, Dylan lowered himself onto her body. Her breasts would have to wait. Her mouth could wait. She had touched his scar, made it live, and now his needs were too great.

With one hand, he parted her long, sleek legs, searching her softness for the entry he needed to put his pain to rest. Finding what he needed, and that Savannah was damp, expectant and willing, was almost too much to bear.

She was ready for what would happen next between them, and he had very nearly bypassed any remaining thread of self-control. He had only this one night.
They
had only this night.

She had used the word
vampire
in jest, without realizing how close she had come to being right about that. He was taking from her now, not with his teeth but with his body’s desire to soak up every bit of her. He had every intention of giving back.

Meaning to wait, to listen for what she might say now that the most intimate of acts was to begin, he breathed her in. He calmed her with a gentle touch to her face as his chest rose and fell as rapidly as hers did, and with the sound of her heartbeat in his ears.

Would she stop him now? Turn away? Come to her senses?

You have no idea what I am, Savannah, and what I can do.

He said aloud in a hoarse tone, “You have no idea what this means to me.”

Her face was hot. Her thighs, beneath his, were hotter. Savannah’s lips trembled, not with fear but with expectation. The sight of her blue eyes closing was his encouragement to go on.

“So be it, my love.”

He dipped into her slowly at first, easing his cock inside, planning to prolong the pleasure. She caught her breath and held it. He couldn’t hold out.

Drawing his hips back, keeping close watch on Savannah’s face, he thrust slowly but steadily into her. Her body offered up a spasm of acceptance that sent Dylan’s senses spiraling. Her mouth opened in a silent cry. She was looking at him now, meeting his gaze as if seeking information that his body couldn’t tell her.

Withdrawing quickly, Dylan lowered his mouth to hers and felt her body loosen. He let his hips go in a plunge that went deep, filling her, demanding a response.

Her hips began to move, rising to meet his, straining against him as she took him in. She closed herself around him as he buried himself inside her, stroking his erection with her perfect, blistering tightness. Her mouth opened for him in a kiss that was beyond belief.

Control a thing of the past, Dylan began to move with a rhythm that matched hers, withdrawing and entering her pliant slickness repeatedly, over and over, each thrust deeper than the one before. He desired to reach the core of Savannah Clark, knowing that even if he did, he’d want more, and that he was doomed by the very act he craved.

The duet and force of their bodies merging rendered everything else, every thought and feeling, meaningless. The bed shuddered beneath this taking, and the headboard groaned.

Dylan knew the exact second that the crescendo in the woman beneath him began to hurl toward the surface. Wanting to meet it, he entered her one more time with a shove fueled by lust, greed, love or whatever they had going on between them.

With his body screaming in need and tempo, and Savannah’s sudden, gathered motionlessness, he didn’t do the thing his nature demanded of him. He didn’t claim her or possess her. He shut his eyes and gave himself up to her. Himself and all that he was.

Yours, Savannah. All for you,
he thought as he climaxed.

The void inside Dylan lit up with a fiery glow that made him shout...and his voice, sounding unfamiliar and changed, merged with Savannah’s startled cry of ecstasy.

* * *

Dylan noticed that Savannah’s breathing had finally slowed.

She lay in his arms, spent, lost in a peaceful, dreamless sleep that he encouraged with the calm, careful movements of his hands on her body.

Giving her these moments of peace was a necessity. Though he wanted to face her and confess everything, he couldn’t. His mind warned him that he had already given too much away.

He had, in fact, given her his soul.

These last few seconds with her were needed, but watching her sleep made him more restless. His heart, usually silent, had liked sharing her beats. He was sharing them still, heard them continuing in a long, lingering echo that spoke of life and of living.

“You are a beautiful enigma, with your silken hair and the face of an angel, a face I will never be able to forget, Savannah.”

She was perfect, yes, except that she was mortal.

This woman had brought him back to the remembrance of his life before immortality, the textures, sights, sounds and delights. Her gift of acceptance tonight had created a fissure in the senses an immortal needed to close off in order to survive.

Emotions long lost had been found.

His heart beat for her. His soul cried out for her.

Dylan looked at her now with not only lust but what felt curiously like love. Love that could never be returned. Her bruised mouth and the blue spots already starting to appear on her arms and thighs from the fierceness of their lovemaking would bring her to her senses. And he would be gone.

As an immortal, he should have had immunity from this new kind of pain, but he’d been caught off guard. It almost seemed as though some larger force had caused this slip in character by bringing them together. He had to think so. Serendipity? Fate? Not chance. It couldn’t have been chance, because this seemed like so much more to him.

“Sleep, my dearest Savannah,” he crooned as she nestled deeper into the crook of his arm. “It will all be over soon enough. There will be no pain, I promise.”

He dreaded the moment that was coming, knowing it had to arrive. The sun was rising. Needles of fire nipped at his bare skin. He had to get out, get going.

Carefully, Dylan slipped his arm from under her. He sat up, trying not to look at what lay beside him, but quickly turned back. With her scent stamped into him, and the taste of her on his lips, he again leaned close.

With gentle fingers, he moved a strand of what felt like finely spun gold away from her ear and began to whisper the words she would never consciously hear; words that stung his soul and left it exposed and hurting.

“Forget...”

Chapter 5

S
avannah opened her eyes. A surge of adrenaline made her sit up with the blanket clutched tight.

“What the...”

She was in bed and completely naked. Evening light threw shadows through the half-open blinds, meaning that she’d slept the day away.

Clutching the blanket tighter, she glanced around the room, seeing no sign of her bed partner, horrified that she couldn’t remember his name. Finding no lingering warmth on the bed next to her let her know that he’d been gone for some time.

Closing her eyes didn’t help anything, but she shut them anyway and muttered, “Everyone has one-night stands.”

Waking to no sign of that one-night stand, though, was a very sad thing.

She moved an arm and winced. Moving a leg, she groaned. The night had been better than good, if stiffness was a sign. She still felt soft inside.

Sliding to the edge of the mattress, she looked to the hallway door with something vague nagging at her consciousness. She could almost envision the guy there. His name sat on the tip of her tongue, though she couldn’t quite get to it.

A ringing sound made her cuff at her left ear. She sat up straighter. The sound wasn’t in her head; it came from the other room. It was a bell insistently tinkling.

The alarm.

Pushing to her feet, struggling to remember what had happened before the sexual antics that had led her to take a stranger to her bed, Savannah found some details imbedded in her brain but was missing others. A velvet voice had whispered to her. She had made love with a hard, cool body, and now every limb, and also her ego, felt bruised.

That was nothing, though, when compared to the pain that streaked across her forehead when she tried to think about what her lover had looked like and what they had talked about.

Had they been discussing stars?

That bell...

They must have set off the alarm on the monitoring system.

Dragging herself to the living room, finding no sign of her guest there, or of anything being disturbed, Savannah eyed the tree in its stand.

Yes, that was right. She had bought a tree from a place on the edge of town, following her usual December routine. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

After killing the bell, she ventured into the kitchen and stared at the red light blinking on the recorder. She’d had the foresight to record everything. This was either very good or very bad, depending on what had occurred.

The little blinking light on the monitor source caught her attention, and her heart gave a leap.

She staggered to the counter and stared. What might have amounted to a night of porn, in pictures, had been sent to the observatory. For some reason, she’d left that monitor switch on.

“Damn.” Getting to the observatory before anyone else saw those tapes was paramount, crucial. She didn’t have to think twice about that.

But first, she had to fill in a few blanks. She rewound the tape and laid her hands on the counter to brace herself. Voices came on from conversation in the living room.
Dylan.
That was his name. Dylan McCay. She’d said his name several times in a breathy tone. Obviously, she had liked this guy.

The fast-forwarded tape went too far. About to rewind, she heard a deep, rich voice whispering in a way that brought chills and an almost desperate, immediate desire to repeat the night’s escapades. That voice struck her deep in her bones. It was like a velvet cloth being dragged across bare skin.

Her body recognized that voice.

But what she heard didn’t just sound like crazy sex talk; it sounded like a threat.

“I have come to censure your research,” he said softly. “I’ve come to stop it, Savannah. You must forget about that star.”

Listening to this now made her light-headed. A moment came when she thought she might faint. What star was he talking about? What did she need to forget?

She had to hear more.

“It’s an objective that rules my existence,” he said. “That Christmas Star and what it hid.”

She stopped the tape with fear growing. Stopping her research was his life’s objective? What would make him say that? She had wanted him, and he had admitted to having sinister purpose in coming here?

“You must forget,” he whispered on that recording. “Forget it all, for now, my lovely Savannah. My love.”

The seductive voice caused a crack in her reasoning. More memories began to punch through the fog of forgetfulness. Details flooded in. Savannah sank to the floor, recalling the man in the Christmas tree lot with the beautiful smile that been here, in her home and in her bed, because of an unforgettable attraction.

And he’d had an agenda after all?

“You son of a...” she shouted, feeling vulnerable, frustrated and angry.

With a sharp bite to her swollen lip, she looked at the recorder. Listening to the rest of the tape was imperative, but it was even more important for her to get to the observatory. Hearing the voice on that tape had brought everything back.

When the recording ended, Savannah looked to the window to see that the sun had set.

Somebody at the observatory might have already viewed the pictures that went along with these recordings.

Though swearing wasn’t her forte, Savannah made a damn good attempt at it as she got to her feet.

* * *

After squealing into the parking space and hitting the curb with both front tires, Savannah leaped from the car. The hallway was dark when she entered the observatory, but she didn’t need lights. She sprinted through two more sets of doors, and the floor of the dome rose above her, sprinkled with circular rows of tiny lamps that lit up when she hit a switch.

The expansive room housing the telescope was kept cold to protect the lens. After the previous night’s antics, Savannah relished the chill.

Circumventing the stairs to the scope, Savannah hustled to her portion of desk space and tossed her things onto the metal cabinet beside it. By the looks of things, her recordings hadn’t been noticed. The red lights of the recorders were like taillights in the dimness. The monitor attached to it was dark.

“Thank you, last night’s non-nosy science guy!”

Savannah turned on a halogen lamp and dropped into a chair.

“Monitor on.” Her fingers moved over the buttons and dials. “Feed geared to its starting point.”

Counting to ten, wanting to scream ahead of time to get that over with, she pressed the monitor switch and sat back.

The camera showed the kitchen first, on the top right corner of the screen. No one had been in there after she’d set it to record, so the kitchen was empty of life.

Next up was the living room. The camera hadn’t yet caught her glorious, devious guest.

Then the screen went fuzzy with static and a series of wavy black lines. Frustrated, Savannah turned the dials.

The bedroom appeared. She held her breath.

Her voice on the recording was winded. “Stay, Dylan,” she heard herself say. “Please stay. I don’t fear this. I don’t fear you.”

Dylan McCay responded in that same deep voice from the recorded tape, but Savannah stared at the screen for several seconds before realizing what was wrong. Confused, she pressed her face closer. She started to shake, trembling so hard, she could barely sit upright.

Her image was there, in her dimly lit bedroom, on that monitor. But her guest’s image wasn’t. It was as if Dylan McCay was the invisible man.

Rewinding, she started over and found the same thing. She knew that she hadn’t dreamed Dylan, because she heard his voice.

She hit the rewind button harder this time, with both hands.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you look at it,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “I won’t be there.”